


17 on a Pink Circle

by thetreesgrowodd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Strikethrough, Gen, Post Reichenbach, Reunion (Kinda), letter format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreesgrowodd/pseuds/thetreesgrowodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 seconds with John nearly got them both killed.</p><p>So Sherlock is back to a life of cheap inns and coffee shops, anonymity and silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	17 on a Pink Circle

John,

As you know, I am not dead. ~~Unless~~ However, I am far away and must remain so for the foreseeable future.

When you saw me last week, I want you to know that it was unplanned and impulsive and very poorly conceived of on my part. I had always planned that when I came back, it would be for good. I had thought out and memorized what I would say to you. Perfect words, perfect phrasing ~~, so that you'd Because it was Moriarty, it was all Moriarty, and we have to keep the blame~~. Better than the confused mess I said to you before we were interrupted. Thank you for dealing with our assailant. I have since confirmed his identity. If you have lost any sleep over killing him, I will assure you right now that you did a service to society. The identity that the police connected to him may have been false, but the list of crimes was legitimate, and drastically incomplete.

He had followed me all the way to London, but it was you he attacked. I knew I had to get away from London for your safety, and so I did. I stayed long enough to see that you were safe and that there would be ample evidence to show that you acted in self-defense. I got as far from you as I could, and let myself be sighted. I am somewhere else, safe and hidden, for now, waiting to take my next steps properly, as I had originally planned, and I will only return when I am sure the danger is gone.

~~Please understand~~

~~This is harder than it needed to be~~

~~This is what it's all been for, your safety~~

I bought a new jacket, different from my normal style. It's not as cold here, although that's as much of a hint about my location as I can give you. It had lots of pockets, some inside, some outside, all with buttons and zips and velcro. I thought I could keep everything I needed in those pockets and live out of my jacket. You've probably been wondering what that sticker up at the top is — it was stuck on the inside of the jacket. Probably signifies the worker who made it. What would it be like, being just the number 17 on a pink circle?

Sometimes I think I'd like to wipe my brain clean and start over. I would be careful not to delete the operating system — I don't fancy learning to talk and feed myself and control my bladder. But if everything else went, if I could do it over again? I'd make detailed lesson plans for myself first, and I would need a very trustworthy person (and you're the only one I can think of) to give me my lessons and fill in any gaps I had left out (I can't even give you examples as the basic problem is that I don't know what they are, so I can't incorporate them into my lesson plans for myself. How to wear jeans and look at sunsets and take deep breaths to relax and whatever things seem important and meaningful). I'd be like a blank person — would my mind be dark like a void or white like an unused sheet of paper? Bit by bit I'd learn exactly what I'd need to learn. ~~Would~~ I don't think I'd miss any of the deleted childhood. It probably did more harm than good. But what if it turned out that pain had shaped me into what I am? What if I turned out unspeakably boring from the lack of it?

It occurred to me (of course) that if I missed the net or otherwise miscalculated, I could have done serious injury to myself, such as a brain injury that could have left me a blank, and I hadn't planned out any lessons ahead of time, and I might not even be able to learn them anyway. I had a note in my pocket for the medical personnel in case I accidentally died or badly injured myself. There was a paragraph for you, explaining everything.

I've found a network of coffee shops here and I'm blending in. There is a large population of twenty- and thirty- somethings who are out of work ~~and are spending their days trying to look like they're looking for work~~. So I am another of them, with faded logo tee-shirts and scarves worn unnecessarily indoors and indents in their thumbs from texting and playing video games. The coffee shops try so hard to be original and welcoming with their music from local bands and affected drink names and worn stacks of paperback novels from authors with three-syllable surnames. ~~It's unspeakably boring and I wan~~

I wanted to be good at this, at living out of my jacket pockets and generic inns, but I'm not, I miss

If nothing else you have to know me well enough to know that I was so attached to my life there — I miss the most trivial things, John, my shampoo, my brand of tea, everything. I loved my life, probably as much as I ever had, and you have to know that I wouldn't have left it for anything less than absolute necessity. I wouldn't have risked breaking my head open (because for all my precautions it was by no means fail-safe and it was an absurd risk I took) on the sidewalk and leaving behind everything to sleep on scratchy sheets and go for days without speaking to anyone but a barista (I wonder how many people in this loud world can even make it though a day without speaking to anyone. I used to think I wanted it but now

~~If anyone tries to tell me that I didn't appreciate what I had until I left it all behind~~

My whole body twitched for several days after I jumped, once I was safely hidden. I've never felt anything like this. My muscles moved invisibly in ways I'd never felt before. My limbs shook and I knew I could stop, I knew I was making it happen, but it kept happening anyway. ~~I could focus on it and feel the urge to move, to shake, and I could fight against it but I couldn't~~ Was this how you felt after you came back to London? Sometimes I couldn't tell if I was hot or cold. I'd lie under the covers and wonder.

When I first moved in with Mrs. Hudson, I'd leave my door open a little in the evenings and listen to her doing her washing up and moving around downstairs. One day after a long case, I'd slept all afternoon and I woke up and it was dark out and the street lights were on and downstairs she was doing something in the kitchen and singing to herself and it was really

~~I know you're not living there anymore, but it you get the chance to, oh you probably think this is stupid~~

~~I'd listen to you singing in the kitc~~

I will come back. I will, and we'll get things back to how they were. Be very cautious of anyone around you, for now. If I've led anyone back to you, I won't forgive myself.

Work the number seventeen into your next blog entry to let me know you've got this.

-S

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to write John's reply, go for it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Everywhere 17](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309257) by [Syd_of_the_Funny_Hat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syd_of_the_Funny_Hat/pseuds/Syd_of_the_Funny_Hat)




End file.
